


A Threesome

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock TV
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Cock Sucking, M/M, Threesome, asshole, cock in ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: What is this game that Victor devised for birthdays?





	1. Greg Tells John

**Author's Note:**

> triggers for incest as consenting adults

Today's a quiet day at our flat. Sherlock and I have no cases, and it's my off time at the clinic. I'm reading the newspaper, wishing I could lie on the sofa, but that's Sherlock's domain.

* * *

His tall, lean body is stretched fully out on it. His laptop balanced on his stomach, vigorously typing away. I can tell he's not too happy by the heaviness of the clicking of the keys.

I've been living with Sherlock Holmes for almost six months now, as flatmates. I was strangely attracted to Sherlock as soon as I met up with him.

* * *

Looking at him you would assume he is the center of everything. His slim stature, height, magnificently carved angular face, curly hair that won't tame. But his most arresting feature is those eyes. Hazel, gold, piercing. When he turns them on you, it's like sinking into a deep pool, no getting out.

He wards off any intimacy but somehow I have managed to reach the status of friend. And that's fine with me.

* * *

Most people don't understand how I put up with Sherlock's superior attitude. And his put-downs. He can look people over and within seconds determine their life story. And doesn't hesitate to tell anyone in the listening area about it. That gets him into all sorts of predicaments. 

* * *

Mycroft Holmes, his older brother, has the same ability. But it's not him I'm living with.

* * *

Hearing footfalls on the steps and the tap of an umbrella, I know this does not make the day any better, maybe even worse.

Anytime we have a visit from Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft, the tension becomes full out.

The two brothers have an interwoven relationship that borders between dislike and dependence.

Mycroft stands in the doorway saying not a word. The two brothers can communicate very well without talking.

* * *

Of a sudden Sherlock jumps up from the couch, laptop clattering to the floor, and loudly exclaims" No, absolutely no, " looking darkly at his brother.

          "No? Well, that's atypical, brother!"

          "Get out."

          "So who then Sherlock?"

With a murderous fury in his eyes, Sherlock closes on Mycroft " Out; we'll discuss this another time."

Bowing his head Mycroft turns, "See you soon," a hesitation and a stamp of his umbrella on the floor, then looking directly at me, over his shoulder, with a bit of that smirk he gives, 

          "John Watson, see you soon also."

* * *

Mycroft begins his descent as Sherlock slams the door behind so hard it shakes a picture off the wall. I stand to put it back in its place.

          "And what was that about?" I ask a now very, very disturbed man. Ignoring me, he flounces out to his bedroom and stays all evening, not coming out for dinner.

* * *

For the next days, Sherlock is in one hell of a bad mood. He leaves the flat without letting me know where he's going. I'm always afraid, cause he can take a murder case, trying to hunt the killer without anyone with him.

I call Greg Lestrade, the Detective Inspector to see if Sherlock has gone on any criminal romps around the city without me. Nothing is the answer I get from Greg.

* * *

Anytime I question Sherlock about what's wrong he scowls and refuses to answer. 

          "I know we haven't had a case in awhile, Is that it?"

Shaking his head no is all I get for an answer.

* * *

My frustration grows, but dragging anything out of this genius is nigh impossible.

* * *

Turning his back on me one day at the kitchen doorway, as I'm cooking dinner, he states, "Mycroft." A deep voice just barely heard over the hissing of the veggies I'm roasting.

Aha! It's still Mycroft and his last visit. I decide to talk to Mycroft myself, with the insight to know I'll probably get more questions thrown at me than answers.

* * *

The next afternoon I have two hours between my morning and evening shift at the clinic.

I grab a cab knowing I'd find him at the Diogenes Club in his private office. It's dark walls, maroon covered chairs, and mahogany furniture all relay a sense of wealth and power.

* * *

Welcoming me in with a smile that surprises me I lead right to my question.

          "Mycroft, what went unspoken between you the last time at 221B that's left Sherlock in such a snit?"

The smile disappears into a frown of sorts. Almost like he was expecting something different from my mouth. 

          "John, it's not my place to tell you."

Still standing I point my finger at him, "listen, it's hard enough now that there are no criminals for him to tackle, Whatever transpired I'd like to get to the bottom of it. To help him." 

Snarkily, "Sorry John, you chose to live with him. Would you want a drink to smooth the edges?"

          "My problem is not only him but you,"My temper flaring up at this complication that isn't getting any better with time.

Out the door, as much in the dark as before.

* * *

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pub around the corner from the hospital has become a hangout for Detective Greg Lestrade and myself. It's usually our one night out together. 

* * *

Each with our motives, his to get away from his wife and me from Sherlock.

We are total opposites in looks, but our mutual need for respite from our partners is what brings us to drinking.

I'm in my forties, stocky, blonde hair and blue eyes. Greg is in his fifties, tall, a small paunch beginning, silver hair and blue eyes.

* * *

We greet each other, taking and sitting at our favorite small table in the dark corner, away from the speakers blaring music.

          "Tell me," as we have a pint each on our table, he speaks very tentatively," what did you do for Sherlock's birthday, John?"

* * *

          "Oh, shit didn't know he had a birthday recently. How do you know about it and not me?"

He breathes a sigh loud enough to hear over the music and voices around us.

          "What a relief! I thought that maybe the brothers had roped you into their little sex adventure." 

All of a sudden his face turns from his glass to look at me and his eyes widen.

          "Shit, Fuck, you don't know? Me and my mouth!"

* * *

          "Excuse me, sex adventure? Brothers? What the fuck?"

          "Shit, shouldn't have said anything. Never mind, forget it, it's the liquor talking," taking a swill.

          "Oh no, you started this, you have to finish. Sherlock has been in a lousy mood these past two weeks and whatever it is I must find out. 

* * *

Greg makes noises in this throat. 

          "Believe me, John, this is beyond inventing. The only reason I know of it is when Sherlock was in one of his drug highs a few years ago.

Even asked me to join them. Best have a good slug of beer. This is going to shock you."

* * *

He motions to the bartender for more beer and waits until he brings the full glasses. Taking a swig of it he looks down at the table, not to me.

* * *

          "I had only just met Sherlock. I liked him, and he often hung around the station waiting to work on criminal cases with me. And then he met, while on one of his drug ventures, this fellow, Victor. Oh, he was a beauty! Tall, slim, whitish blonde hair and blue eyes. Victor was as outgoing as Sherlock was introverted. He fell like a brick for Sherlock and vice versa. And the contrast in looks between them! Striking! All eyes turned when they were together."

* * *

Stopping to take a breath and a drink, he continued.

          "Victor was Sherlock's first venture into sex. And the blonde was no stranger to it. And not afraid to try anything. He was wild; he hung out with all sorts. Victor moved into the small flat Sherlock had then.

* * *

          "Mycroft did not approve of Victor. But Sherlock could not be persuaded away from the blonde. Victor was good at getting under Mycroft's skin which of course Sherlock loved.

* * *

          "Interesting. Continue."

          "Mycroft's birthday was coming up, and Victor found out. Sherlock told him that they never celebrate, never buy gifts for each other. Victor came up with this crazy scheme, spoke to both men and got them to agree. How, to this day I don't know."

* * *

He paused, grabbed more beer and looked sharply at me.

          "Are you ready for this John? Maybe it's best if we leave it alone at this point."

          "I'm in this deep, might as well hear the rest."

* * *

          "They went to a posh hotel for the night, and a threesome ensued."

At that my head jerked up, my face showed surprise and this time it was me who took the big gulp.

          "A threesome? You mean the brothers-incest?"

          "Yes, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Victor. Mycroft would get whatever he wanted. It was his birthday present. So that's it. It went so well the three decided to do it for Sherlocks birthday and every birthday of each of them after. And that's the story."

* * *

I swig another beer and then another.

* * *

          "How long was Sherlock with Victor?" I know I'm drunk because I'm having trouble with my words.

          "I think it was close to three years. Victor just upped and left one day and Sherlock was devastated. That's when he got the flat you're now in."

* * *

          "That's why Mycroft showed up at the flat and Sherlock was so upset? He wanted the threesome for Sherlock, but this time with-Fuckers-me?"

          "Yes, John, I think Sherlock thinks too much of you to have you in on their scheme."

          "But I'm almost certain that they did this recently. But with whom?"

          "John, go home. Forget about this. Let them have this, whatever you want to call it, together."

          "You're saying then, that Sherlock's birthday has passed and I knew nothing about it and they had that," I hesitate,"thing together?"

          "John, leave it alone. Don't destroy what you have," pleads Greg.

          "Can't. Knowing he's doing this and keeping me in the dark. Also, he's been sulking around so I assume he was forced into this and I want it to stop."

* * *

We both have to take cabs home, we're so full of liquor.

* * *

Weaving into the sitting room, I plop in my chair looking at Sherlock with bleary eyes. "Shherrrlock, have to talk."

          "No talk now, John. You're drunk. I'm going to put you to bed and we can discuss whatever you want tomorrow."

          "No-, talk now."

* * *

At that Sherlock stands up, grabs me under the arms, hoists me up and drags me up the stairs to my bedroom, throwing my body on the bed. He offs the shoes, "John goodnight."

And slams the door and leaves.

* * *


	2. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John dreams of the threesome. With him making it four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A foursome of men. Some whipping. Incest between consenting brothers.

I'm dreaming, I know I am. This can't be happening. It must be a dream. No, a nightmare

* * *

There I stand in the middle of the sitting room. It's winter; it has to be because the fireplace has a blazing fire going. But I'm shivering, and yet hot, sweating. Sherlock, Mycroft, and Victor are all there.

* * *

Victor is sitting off to the side on a kitchen chair, legs crossed, a riding crop in hand.

Mycroft is standing close behind me, and Sherlock is in front.

* * *

I'm scared, partly thrilled, unsure of what's going to happen.

* * *

Sherlock is unbuttoning my shirt. It's his purple shirt I have on, how or why I don't know. Slowly, sensuously, each button is loosed from the hole.

Mycroft is kissing my neck. I arch to the side, exposing more of me. All the buttons undone, Mycroft slides his hands up my back to strip the shirt from my body.

* * *

I'm moaning, the lust overtaking me.

I should be fighting this invasion, but this is what Sherlock demands of me, and I give into him. To anything he desires.

My trousers are tight with my hunger, my need. But, Sherlock won't let me. His craving, his requirements are all that matters to him. It's his birthday, and this is his birthday wish.

* * *

The flame in the fireplace grows bigger. It lights up the room eerily, making everything seem to waver, flicker, change shape.

Mycroft's tongue lashes out at my ear, biting and sucking. Sherlock has hands on my nipples, his mouth down on it, biting hard.

My senses are as aflame as the fire. My cock is straining.

          "Sherlock, pleaassee," as I beg for release.

* * *

I see Victor stand up, Mycroft backs away from me, and the lash of the whip hits my clothed backside. I jump away as it hits two more times.

I know I'm not supposed to talk. Just do as they wish.

Mycroft comes behind again, and grabs my hair, pulling my head back, sucking hard on my neck.

Victor moves next to Sherlock and unzips my trousers, as Sherlock pulls them off me.

They are all so cold, so meticulous.

It's me that's being subjugated to this exquisite torture, making my body and mind the one to rupture into small fragments. Hot, cold, incomplete.

* * *

          "Look, Victor," Sherlock's voice resonates deep in my groin. "See that hard cock? How inviting. I know he wants me to wank him off. But this is my birthday, and he's my slave tonight."

Victor places my rigid cock in his hand, "It's all yours Sherlock."

* * *

Oh, the feel of a hand on it, the thought that maybe, possibly, but no, nothing happens.

I'm sweating, I'm in agony, wanting, not sure what will happen.

I'm at the mercy of the three men in this room.

All three strip off their clothes, cold, quiet, calculated.

* * *

Sherlock pulls me over to the coffee table. 

          "On your knees, lean over it with your backside to the couch. I want to see your ass in the air."

As I do, I'm being blindfolded by Mycroft.

No, no don't do this! How can I let them? But it's Sherlock.

Hands are on my ass. Multiple hands. Kneading, spreading, and then the slaps of the hands.

Hard slaps, making me twitch, cry out, hum with desire.

I hear the click of the bottle of lube from Sherlock's hands as he's sitting on the couch behind me.

          "You'll have my cock up that ass hole of yours. Just like a real bitch"

I feel him spread my legs wider, running a finger up and down the crack and around my hole. The lube is cold, wet, dripping.

A finger probes, and goes in a bit at a time. No, I think, you can't-do this. Yes, you can.

My mind whirls with nonsense thoughts. Convulsing, cringing, yet wanting the fuck.

* * *

Out the finger comes, and two are now in deep.

          "Noooo," I holler.

And the whoosh of the whip is heard as I feel it on my ass.

A third finger enters me, opening up, pushing apart, widening me, readying me.

Mycroft has been on his knees stroking my face, kissing me, his tongue dancing in my mouth.

I feel Sherlock's cock, the tip running up and down my ass crack. It's lube cold against me. 

He stops at the hole, and his tip begins to probe. Hands pull my cheeks apart, the glans going in slightly. Push in, push in deeper.

Moaning, wanting, my cock so hard, knowing it will not be serviced, dripping, twitching with every movement Sherlock makes.

Ass hole being filled inch by inch, until Sherlock is in all the way.

I grab my cock, my release imperative.

And the whoosh of the whip over my ass.

My hand comes quickly away, groaning at both the lash and the strain of not coming, pre-come dripping, balls tight.

* * *

Mycroft stands up. 

          "Victor, a pillow please."

Kneeling on the pillow, he places his cock next to my lips. I feel his pre-come wetting me. Pushing his cock to open my mouth he crams it in.

Sherlock begins to move his cock now firmly seated in my ass hole, a pull almost out and push all the way in and Mycroft works with him, his cock in my mouth mirroring Sherlock's cock in my ass.

* * *

The blindfold comes off as Sherlock says,"look up at Mycroft and Victor."

My head is pulled back by my hair to see them. Victor is pumping his cock by Mycroft's side.

Victor yells 'now,' Mycroft pulls out, and Victor's cock enters my mouth. I close it, and his liquid is gushing around my tongue. He pulls out leaving Mycroft to assault my inner mouth, finishing himself off with great squirts of salty, sticky, semen.

* * *

Sherlock pushes in one more time and cries out, coming in great spurts in my ass.

          "Happy Birthday," both Victor and Mycroft say.

* * *

Sherlock pulls out, come dripping from my mouth and ass.

          "John, lie down on the carpet and take care of yourself."

I quickly do while they watch me.

* * *

Everything fades, changes colors, mutes into nothingness.

* * *

I wake up in my bed. Sweat is pouring out, crying, no sobbing, and something sticky under me. 

Trembling, panicky. And notice that my cock is limp. I wanked myself into the sheet.

Out of this nightmare, into the real world.

* * *

I dreamt about what Greg had related to me last night. The sex orgy those three men performed!

* * *

Moving on my knees slowly, I creep out of bed, stand and head downstairs to the bathroom.

I truly want a shower but afraid it would wake Sherlock, so I clean myself up as best as possible with a wet flannel and soap. Back upstairs to shuck the sheets off the bed.

* * *

I'm still shaken up. Tea! I need tea. Robe on I tiptoe back down, head to the kitchen and put a pot on.

I don't even feel the effects of the drinking from last night. But I sure do feel the effects of this dream!

* * *

I'm sitting in my chair sipping the tea trying to make sense of what has been happening.

If Sherlock was so adamant to Mycroft that night, it must have been about this birthday stunt. 

Which meant he didn't want me to participate in this, whatever you call it.

Not that I would!

* * *

Why the difference between Victor and me? Why did he not think even to ask me? When it comes to emotions, Sherlock lacks empathy.

Normally he would have barged ahead with not a notion of how I would feel as long as he got what he wanted.

And how is it that Sherlock never talks about Victor if he was such a big factor in his life?

By now I'm so worn out I place the cup on the table and shuffle upstairs. I have no strength left to get another sheet, so the blanket is used instead.

I leave a message on the answering machine at the clinic. I'm not going in tomorrow, actually today. Too confused to be able to work with people.

I fall face down on the bed and sleep takes over.


	3. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock confesses to John all that transpired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consenting incest between brothers

I know Sherlock is surprised to see me home the next day and is waiting for an explanation.

After having a small breakfast of tea and toast, my stomach at odds with me, I sit in my chair.

How to approach this?

* * *

Sherlock is working on some experiment in the kitchen, and I've passed him each time I was making food, not talking to him. Not even an 'excuse me' as I worked.

* * *

          "Sherlock, can you come in here?"

* * *

Peeking out from the kitchen, he moves slowly and sits down, his fingers steepling in front of his face. He's trying to penetrate and lay open my thoughts.

          "We have something to talk about. What was the 'nothing' you and your brother didn't discuss that day he was here?"

          "John, it's not up for discussion."

          "Sherlock, fuck, don't make me out a fool. Something occurred"

Sherlock gets up, wanders around the room leaving to go to his bedroom. Now I'm ripped.

          "Get out here this instant!"

When I hear not a sound is when I resolve to keep myself calm in all this.

Pulling myself up from the chair I go to his door and am surprised when it's not locked, turning the knob I enter.

* * *

          "Sherlock, whatever this is has been eating at you, and you're not letting it out."

I'm sitting on the bed; Sherlock is lying face down. My hand brushes over his back. Soothing. Quiet.

* * *

          "What went wrong that night?"

          "John if I tell you'll leave or think me depraved."

          "Can I be the judge of that?"

He sits up, his face drawn. 

          "Be prepared to dislike what you hear."

* * *

Drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around him, hugging tight. 

Not seeing me, glowering. Almost as if he has to push this out of his mind and into the daylight. Airing it out in full view of himself, never mind me.

* * *

          "Mycroft's birthday was the day before he came to the flat. He was going to get his gift,-" and here he hesitates.

          "And that gift was?" prompting him with a hand on his knee.

          "He thought you would have sex with him. But I wouldn't let him."

          "Why would he surmise that? I never gave him a reason, as a matter of fact-"

I stopped, wanting Sherlock to let the whole story come out.

* * *

Covering his face, his words barely able to be heard, a whisper.

          "Oh John, do I have to do this?"

He's so fragile now that I can hardly feel myself breathing. One word and I would expect him to trounce out and that would end this.

* * *

His hands come off his face and around his knees. His eyes stare straight ahead.

          "I met someone years ago, Victor, and we began, you would call it dating. 

He moved into my former apartment with me, kept me off drugs. I know, I never told you about him. He was significant in my life at that time. He was very sexually active, teaching me along the way. I thought I loved him and gave into his every whim and need.

He and Mycroft were adversaries, Mycroft wanting him out of my life and I kept refusing. My brother did not hide his disdain for Victor. Upon hearing that Mycroft's birthday was forthcoming Victor devised a plan.

I was so besotted with Victor I couldn't say no to anything he proposed.

He divulged to me that he knew Mycroft was, as he put it, 'foaming at the mouth to get into my pants.'"

Here he stops, runs his hands through his hair, tearing at the curls.

He pounds his fists on his knees. I take one hand and hold it. Not looking directly at him. Waiting.

* * *

          "I can't."

          "Give it to me straight and let me be the judge. Trust me."

          "Promise me-promise you won't go." It almost comes out as a sob.

* * *

I lean closer and in my most soothing voice, the one I use for patients," No matter what you say or what it is, I will not leave 221B."

* * *

          "We three gathered at Mycroft's house, the plan, the idea-" and here he chokes on the next words.

          "An orgy. The three of us giving Mycroft what he desired sexually."

Still holding his hand, I rub my thumb lightly over his palm.

          "Mycroft agreed to you being involved with this? Knowing-?"

He stops me, shaking his head yes.

* * *

          "Mycroft scripted the idea with Victor. I was kept out of it, being adamantly against even being present. 

But, Victor, being Victor, I had no choice. I followed his every lead.

* * *

          "First Victor divested himself of his clothes. Mycroft had the choice of having his orgasm in Victor's mouth or rectum. Mycroft chose Victor's mouth. That meant I had Mycroft from the rear. And it was done at the same time. There was more. It was, oh damn, this is so difficult, so good that we continued it for my birthday also. And for subsequent birthdays for the three of us."

* * *

          "I never told you about Victor. He was-"

* * *

          "Sherlock, that's for another time, but, let me guess, Mycroft thought I would do the same?"

          "Yes, but it's different with us and I refused him."

* * *

Laughing a bit,"I'm certainly glad you did. You'd have a hard time getting me to fuck your brother. At least in that way."

And he chuckled.

          "But that's not the end of it."

* * *

He stands up and walks around the room.

          " Come into the sitting room and let me get us tea,"standing and making sure he followed.

* * *

Tea is brewed and served with no comments from either.

* * *

I recline in my chair while Sherlock paces.

          "John,-" and his hand pounds the chair I'm sitting in.

I turn around and take that hand in mine, pull him back to face me.

          "The finish of this is?"

          "Mycroft begged and pleaded for me to attempt to talk you into it. I think, in reality, he finds you stimulating."

I snort at that.

* * *

          "No, he likes that you don't take his guff.

          "In the end, I acquiesced to my continuing but found one from my homeless network who resembled you to do it. For a hefty sum, mind you."

          "Oh no, how could you?"

* * *

He pulls his hand out of mine, jerks it actually, and runs into his bedroom.

I walk in finding Sherlock on his stomach, in bed, moaning into the pillow.

          "Go ahead, John, leave now. Go before you sink into -the-this cesspool."

* * *

I'm mulling this over in my head while sitting on the edge of the bed, my hand touching his hair, playing with it.

* * *

          "Will this be an event that will continue?"

          "No, I don't want it to"

          "Okay, then how does this end?"

          "I'll talk to Mycroft. He'll have to find someone else to play with."

          "What do You want to do?"

Turning over he glances at me, a hesitant look on his face.

          "Are you suggesting you would-?"

          "Never with your brother. That freaks me out. but-?"

          "John," at which point his breath sharpens, he draws me to him.

          " You'd do it?"

          "Hmm, the first time you've deduced me wrong Sherlock. First," and at this point, my mouth grins so wide it literally feels it's from ear to ear,"why not you and me?"

Can't describe the silly look he takes on.

* * *

          "Sex with you? Alone? The two of us?"

          "Sherlock, you can be so dense at times."

          "Give me, no never mind, I'm going to take-"

With that, his hands pull my body on top of his and he responds with his lips, his tongue, and body.

* * *

Someday, maybe, we'll attempt a threesome. But never with Mycroft!


	4. Who Will Be the Third?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is back. John is jealous. Who will, if any, be the third partner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> threesome, maybe four. IS Mycroft involved again? Incest?

Sherlock and I have been lovers now for almost a year, and a fantastic year it has been!

* * *

Coming home one evening from the clinic I can sense a problem walking into the flat.

Sherlock is pacing the room, and there's someone with him.

* * *

From my mate's description, I know. It's Victor!

Giving Sherlock a look of 'what do I do now,' he mumbles an introduction.

          "John, Victor, my once flatmate."

          "Nice to meet you," as Victor, sitting in my chair, just nods down, a decided knowing grin on him.

I feel like wiping it off, throwing him out. But, this is Sherlock's call.

* * *

          "John, would it be possible to speak to Victor alone?"

          "I'll go to our," emphasizing the 'our,' "bedroom."

* * *

Murmurs are all I get until I hear Sherlock's voice raised.

* * *

          "I'm finished with that, get it? Done! Find another playmate. Get out!"

Nothing happens, all settles down. I imagine they are back to talking.

* * *

A door slam, Sherlock's voice rings out, "John, get in here," in a demanding tone.

Into the sitting room, not wanting to sit in my chair a the moment, I stand.

* * *

Sherlock is pacing the room, tearing at his hair.

          "Sherlock?"

          "John, I can't get rid of this. It's come back to haunt me."

          "What's 'this' mean," doing air quotes.

* * *

          "Would you? No, I can't ask it."

The light bulb goes off.

          "Are we back to this idea of birthday gifts, now that he's around?"

Stopping in front of me, kissing me with great passion, he backs off, "Yes."

          "Why are you even thinking of it?" My anger boiling up.

I turn around, then turn again to face him, reality dawning on me.

          "You want this, don't you?"

* * *

Sitting down in his chair he doesn't answer, but I don't need any reply.

Down in my chair, I lean into him.

          "Is this to include me then? Your brother? Shall we include the whole damn police force?" 

My temper thoroughly aroused, I beat my hands on the chair arms.

* * *

          "Calm down, John, and stop making stupid expectations"

          "Stupid? Expectations! Where does it stop?"

          "It hasn't even started, John."

* * *

Out of my head now, my emotions taking over fully.

          "I love you, you fuck! You're mine, do you understand?"

* * *

Not answering but sitting there, it's my turn to pace the room. At one time I would have left the flat, but I've learned to tackle these emotions head-on.

* * *

Deep breaths, I head to the kitchen for tea.

The brew is done, and I'm going to my chair when Sherlock stands ready to leave to go the bedroom presumably.

          "No, let's discuss this now, Sherlock, please. I won't be able to sleep if we hold it off."

* * *

Both in our chairs facing each other, I wait, trying to see the whole picture before jumping.

* * *

Sherlock's face is blank. I can't read anything from it, but he speaks first. 

          "Yes, I want it again, I-I experienced highs, I can't explain in words. But now that I have you, it's your wishes first. Would you, and if you would, who with?"

          "Shit, this is not easy. Yes, I do want to please you."

Taking another sip, this has to be thought about straight away, or my mind will reject the whole thing.

* * *

          "I don't want Mycroft involved. Sorry, but incest? Also because I would always see his self-satisfied grin in allowing this.

I'm thinking aloud so bear with me."

* * *

He sort of smiles. 

          "Thank you for even contemplating this venture."

"Venture?" I giggle, "I hardly think that's the word."

* * *

          "Victor, I assume wants in on this and I am thinking-yes, you want him also. Why?

          "I know you're jealous, but I'm at ease knowing he's conversant with this from the past. He has no intentions of interfering with our relationship."

* * *

          "Is this a one-time?'

          "Only if you demand it. But, I imagine he might be back again. He's now in London. I told him that it's your decision."

A laugh erupts from my mouth!

          "My decision? To have an orgy?"

I blink, conscious of my growing erection. John Watson, you git, you watch fucking porn with orgies and get off on it! Why not the real thing?

* * *

          "Sherlock, let's go for it all! My voice ringing clear.

* * *

He's startled until he sees my hand ghost over my trousers.

We both laugh.

* * *

          "Okay, before we fuck, I'd like Mycroft, Victor and if you can convince Greg Lestrade that would be an exceptional twist. Details to be discussed tomorrow. Now come fuck me raw, you bad boy!"

And saying that we run to the bedroom behaving like teens.


End file.
